An internet buddy recently designed a site for a shindig he is throwing in Vegas. (As an aside, if you can be in Vegas in September, you really should. It is going to be a helluva party.) Ever since he published it, something about the design has been tickling my memory. I couldn't figure out what it reminded me of... Until today.
I was sitting on the couch, laptop on lap, struggling with a graphic I have neither the skill nor the software to create. I had a random playlist cranked through the TV, and a Sex Pistols song came on. The screen saver is set to show album covers. I looked up, and this is what I saw...
I was sitting on the couch, laptop on lap, struggling with a graphic I have neither the skill nor the software to create. I had a random playlist cranked through the TV, and a Sex Pistols song came on. The screen saver is set to show album covers. I looked up, and this is what I saw...
Between the font in the header and the colors, vibe and texture of the background images, the Underbike site reminds me of all of those cool concert posters that the Pistols had for the American leg of the "Never Mind the Bollocks" tour.
At least that is the connection my brain made.
I loved those album covers and posters. Seven million years ago, when I was in high school, we had to have a separate spiral notebook for each class. A thick one. One of those hefty, inch, inch and a half thick, bad boys. At the start of the school year I would decorate the front of each notebook in what I called, "Sex Pistol Style". I'd go through my mom's magazines and cut out letters that spelled out the name of each class and glue them to the notebook covers. Then I would raid the art department at school and splatter paint across the top of them.
I wish I had kept those things. By the end of the year, when all of the paper had been torn out, and all that was left were the ratty covers... They were amazing.
I threw them away in a moment of Joy Division inspired teen angst.
I regret it to this day.
At least that is the connection my brain made.
I loved those album covers and posters. Seven million years ago, when I was in high school, we had to have a separate spiral notebook for each class. A thick one. One of those hefty, inch, inch and a half thick, bad boys. At the start of the school year I would decorate the front of each notebook in what I called, "Sex Pistol Style". I'd go through my mom's magazines and cut out letters that spelled out the name of each class and glue them to the notebook covers. Then I would raid the art department at school and splatter paint across the top of them.
I wish I had kept those things. By the end of the year, when all of the paper had been torn out, and all that was left were the ratty covers... They were amazing.
I threw them away in a moment of Joy Division inspired teen angst.
I regret it to this day.
